Bandit
by White Wolf Phoenix
Summary: (backstory and ongoing from Soldier) The life of a ferret doesn't mean much to the woodland animals. Except that this ferret is not the same as most. He only wants to live as he wishes. Through the years of his life he has seen and done many things. But bad or good, wrong or right, they have shaped him into the person he now is. And he wouldn't change that for the world
1. Chapter 1

Blanket Disclaimer: I do not own any concepts/characters/places that are mentioned in the Redwall series of books. I do, however, own Bandit, Ash, Pipkin and the twin's father.

Author's Note: First off, I would like to thank the kind people who reviewed the story that this progressed from, Soldier. Your comments and encouragements gave me the courage to write this backstory to my original character, Bandit. Thank you so much!

All reviews are welcome and appreciated.

"Look at children. Of course they may quarrel, but generally speaking they do not harbor ill feelings as much or as long as adults do. Most adults have the advantage of education over children, but what is the use of an education if they show a big smile while hiding negative feelings deep inside? Children don't usually act in such a manner. If they feel angry with someone, they express it, and then it is finished. They can still play with that person the following day."

― Dalai Lama XIV

Prologue

The small clearing on the outskirts of the wood known as Moss Flower were silent. Or as silent as the woods ever were. The sun broke through the leaves in random patches of brilliance, painting the ground with glittering speckles. The almost inaudible wind made the foliage twitch at the touch of its unseen caress.

All at once the peace was shattered by the happy shout of a child. There soon followed another, along with the pounding footsteps of carefree children running through the woods. Onto the untouched grass of the clearing tumbled three small figures. The first to rise from the tangle of arms, legs and tails was the smallest of the three, his laughter as bright and innocently happy as the sunlight playing over his pale fur. "Come on Pipkin, Ash, bet you can't catch me!"

The other youngsters, clearly twin red squirrel brothers by their identical looks and bushy auburn tails, clambered to their feet and jumped after their friend. One of them tackled him to the floor, grappling his arms around the smaller creature's waist. "I've got him Pip! Get him!"

Gleefully, the other twin grasped hold of his pinned friend and began tickling mercilessly. "Ha! Now you have to say it!"

"No!" The smallest child gasped for breath, tears running from his jewel black eyes from trying not to laugh. "I'll never say it!"

Pipkin looked at his brother. "I think we need to do it, Ash."

"You're right." Ash grinned.

At which point the twins promptly sat upon their hapless captive. "Ooof… Hey, no fair!"

"Just say it and we'll let you up." Pipkin promised, tapping the smaller child on the head. "We swear."

Sighing, the creature underneath them wilted with resignation. "Okay, okay. I'll say it." His voice lowered to barely a whisper. "Squirrels rule."

"What was that?" Ash cocked his head, his paw around his left ear. "Didn't quite hear you."

"Squirrels rule!"

Triumphant, the twins bounded to their feet. "True enough." Pipkin put out a paw to help their friend to his feet. "Glad you think so, Bandit."

Bandit huffed, taking the proffered paw and standing. "Jeez, you guys are rough." He grumbled, brushing the soil from his creamy brown fur and picking leaf litter from his tunic. "There was no need to crush me."

Ash shrugged. "You were being stubborn. So, what do you guys want to do now?"

"I dunno." Bandit flopped down on a patch of moss nearby. "It must be nearly dinner time. You think you ought to go home, or can you play a bit longer?"

Ash shrugged. "I suppose we should go home. Mum and Dad will probably be looking for us. How about you?"

Bandit shook his head. "No, my parents won't be looking for me. They don't really bother about me much."

"Really?" Pipkin nibbled at a blade of grass absently. "Why not?"

Bandit rolled onto his stomach, wiggling his little hindpaws in the air. "I'm the youngest in my family. My brother and sister get all the attention. They're bigger than me and pick on me a lot. Dad says they're both going to be fine ferrets one day. He never says that about me, though. But I don't mind, not really." He scratched at his ear. "It means I can pretty much do what I want, since they never notice I'm gone. That's how I came to meet you guys this morning. Glad I did too." He grinned. "Today has been great!"

Ash peered at the young ferret curiously. "That's great, but don't you miss being tucked in at night, bedtime stories, having special treats from your parents, or hugs?"

Bandit looked at the ground beneath him, picking at it with his tiny claws. "I guess…" His face was so shadowed that the twins could hardly make out the brown of his irises from his black mask-like marking around his eyes.

The twins looked at each other, and Pipkin made to say something consoling to their new friend, when a shout came from the bushes. "There you two are!"

Out from the shrubbery strode an adult red squirrel. He was clearly annoyed, if his glare was anything to go by. Ash shot to his feet. "Dad!"

Pipkin followed suit, leaping to his paws. "Hey dad, this is our new friend Bandit. We met by the—"

He was cut off by his father, as he grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, as well as Ash. "I don't care where you met him. I don't care who he is. He's a ferret. That makes him bad news." Glaring at Bandit's shocked little face, the twin's father growled out. "Stay away from my children, you hear me? If I ever see you around them again, you'll wish you'd never set foot out of your home."

Bandit's mouth hung open, unable to say a word. He had never been spoken to like this before. Sure, his parents didn't pay much attention to him, but when they did it had never been with harsh words such as this. It was usually apathy or general acknowledgement, not threats in the form of angry eyes and loud tones. "I…"

Before he could utter another syllable, the father of his newest (and only real, he admitted subconsciously) friends turned, his children in hand, and marched off back into the trees, leaving Bandit dumbstruck. Ash, his face full of pity and confusion mouthed "Bye", as he was carried off.

Bandit stood there for a long time. Exactly how long he didn't know. What had he done to make that squirrel angry at him? He couldn't remember ever seeing him before, so how could he have done anything to deserve this? Was it just because he was a ferret? But how could that be fair? He couldn't help what he was. He hadn't chosen it, it had been chosen for him.

With a sense of deep dejection, Bandit slunk away from the clearing where he had lost his only real friends in the blink of an eye. As he trudged home, his head hung low and his heart hollow with loss, little did Bandit know that this would be the first of many incidents that would shape his young life.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Notes: Here is the second instalment and the first actual chapter. I hope that you enjoy. Please read and review, it really does mean a lot to me.

And very special thanks to Snowygrin for her help and opinions on this chapter, as well as those yet to come.

It had been a few months since Bandit had last seen Ash and Pipkin. Since then he had resorted to playing alone in the wood. Not wanting to face anger from any more adults, he found ways to amuse himself that didn't include any other creatures. Not even other ferrets. Not that there were many around this part of the wood. The ones that did live nearby, he couldn't stand. Rotten nasty bunch, the lot of Them, and none were worse than his own siblings.

The eldest was called Fleck. He was a big bullying brute of a ferret, just as likely to hit you on sight as to shake hands. He had even bitten Bandit when they were younger. All his father did was laugh and ruffle Fleck's dark brown spotted cream coat and say "What a little devil you are."

His sister, the second eldest was a pale furred menace of the first degree. Innocent in appearance with her big blue eyes and pink nose, she could get away with anything. All she had to do was look teary eyed and start whimpering and she would be forgiven any sins. It was no wonder that she was named Angel. Bandit thought that Nightshade would have been more appropriate.

Then, of course, there was Bandit himself. Small and weak in comparison to their other offspring, the most attention his parents gave him was to name him. Even this was a fleeting consideration for them. His facial marking, that of a black mask around his eyes, was the furthest they looked into the matter. "Bandit." His mother had said. "That's what we'll call him."

Due to his lack of importance in his family unit, he received less food and care from those who you would have assumed should care the most. When he was sick, he had to nurse himself back to health. When he was hungry he had to find his own food to supplement his table scraps. When he was in trouble he had to fight his own way out. As a result of this, by his sixth year of life he was a scrawny, undersized specimen. Diminutive in comparison to all of the other ferret youngsters, and some other creatures as well, save mouselings, he was wirey and tough. A real scrapper.

An independent spirit by nature, if not necessity, he thrived on adventure and investigation. The only trait that he could not view as being useful in his solitary existence, was the need to help others. He craved companionship, even if he didn't try to seek it out any longer.

This morning he was outside in the fresh air of an Idyllic June day. He sat, almost crouching underneath the windowsill of the kitchen, located at the rear of their little cottage. hiding from Fleck, who was inside at this very moment, pilfering some blueberry muffins from the larder.

He knew that if Fleck found out that he was around, he would manage to twist it so that Bandit got the blame for the missing food. Granted he did steal small items from traveller's picnic baskets, or occasionally dig up some vegetables from other creature's farming plots. But he knew well enough not to steal from the family store. The first, and only time, he had tried it, his mother had laid into him with a wooden spoon. He had been picking out the splinters for days afterwards.

Peeking over the sill, he saw that Fleck's back was turned, and so took the opportunity to run as fast as he could around the side of the building, heading for the front. Perhaps he could make a break for the treeline and go fishing-.

His pounding paws screeched to a halt, almost catapulting him forwards and into plain sight of the creatures he found at the entrance to his home.

Tarclaw, his father, was busy talking to a stoat at the end of the path that led from their front door to the woodland proper. The stoat was a sly looking animal, with pinched features and slitted eyes that seemed to be forever darting around him. "I swear that the job will be done tonight. Come on, Flink, you know I always complete the jobs your boss sends my way."

Flink drew back his lips in a smile that better resembled a snarl, his yellowed teeth none-too pleasant to behold. "That's as may be, but the boss wants this one done quick like. No witnesses, no fuss."

Bandit scowled to himself. He hated the fact that his father worked for the stoats. He had never seen 'the boss' in person, but he'd heard all sorts of stories about him. "The biggest stoat you've ever seen." A travelling rat had whispered to his companion. " Nearly as tall as a badger."

"Yeah." The other rat had enthused, eager to tell his part of the rumour. "I heard he's got claws like knives, he has! An' teeth that could bite through stone!"

Bandit didn't believe the exaggerations for a second, but he had enough sense to realise that whatever 'the boss' was really like, he was formidable, evil and had a lot of other creatures in his employ. Most of them doing the same work as his father, or at least that's what the young ferret supposed. He had heard his father arguing with Flink before, about other creatures getting the contracts that were rightfully his. What this exactly meant, Bandit couldn't figure out. He didn't even know what his father actually did, but whatever it was, it was bad. It had to be if 'the boss' was involved.

Having made up his mind to try heading straight into the woods at the side of the house, Bandit dashed into the trees, but only got a few steps past the first line of leafy bushes. A small paw wrapped itself around his wrist, as it's twin clapped over his mouth, stopping his cry of surprise from escaping. "Shhh runt!" The voice that hissed at him was high pitched and feminine, and very familiar.

"Awngmml?" He asked through her paw.

"Yes, of course it is, you dimwit. I'm going to let you go now. Make a sound and I'll skin you alive. Got it?"

Bandit nodded his head mutely. She removed her paws from him. Tilting his head, he frowned at her. "What are you doing hiding in the bushes? I thought you would be with Fleck?"

Angel sniffed derisively. "Hmph. I have more important things to do with my time than steal cookies."

Bandit squinted at her suspiciously. "Like what…?"

"Spying on father of course." She rolled her eyes. "Now shut up so we can hear what's going on."

He was about to retort, when she gave him a cutting glare, stopping the words before they could form. Closing his mouth, he listened intently to the conversation still going on at the edge of the treeline, where his father and Flink still stood. "You know where he lives, then?" Flink asked, his voice as thick and greasy as oil. "And what your to obtain first?"

"Yes, the hut by the side of the great oak fifty paces east of the large white rock. Stop worrying. I know what I'm doing. I'll contact you in the usual way afterwards."

"Agreed. Leave the proof of the completed task in the hollow stump near the river."

With that, Flink turned and loped away, and their father returned to the house none the wiser to his offspring's spying. Angel rubbed her paws together. "Finally!"

Bandit nodded. "Yeah, I thought Flink would never leave."

"Not that, you idiot!" Angel snapped, thwacking Bandit across the back of the head with a slender paw. "Finally I'll get to see what father does. I've been waiting all season for a chance like this."

Bandit whined, rubbing his sore head. "But why do you care what father does?"

"Because, imbecilic little brother, knowledge is power. If I knew what father does when he is given a contract, then I will have that power over him. That way I can get whatever I want. He doesn't like sharing information about his work, so it must be something that he can't tell, or won't tell people about. See?"

Bandit, not a simple minded ferret by any means, couldn't quite connect why she would want that kind of information, or how it would help her get whatever it was she wanted. Surely father would give her anything she wanted anyway? She was his little angel, after all. "Umm…"

Angel huffed out a breath. "Oh, never mind. You're too stupid to understand."

"I am not stupid." Bandit grumbled. "Anyway, it's not like you're the only one who knows where he's going…"

Angel's eyes widened. "You're right. You know too…" She thought for a moment, and then narrowed her eyes at him. "You're coming with me."

"I'm what?" Bandit bawked at the very idea. "Why would I come with you? I don't want to find out what father does."

"But you're going to. If I leave you here while I follow him, you'll rat me out to mother, or to Fleck. Then I'll catch hell for it. So I'm keeping you where I can see you."

"I wouldn't tell Fleck anything to save his life, and mother never listens anyway." Bandit protested, not liking the way things were going.

"That's as may be, but I'm still taking you with me." She glared as he opened his mouth to protest. "And don't even think of messing this up by telling father, or trying to worm your way out. I could have you flattened in a matter of seconds if I wanted to. The Barkfang twins owe me a favour, remember?"

Bandit grimaced. Indeed, he did remember. The Barkfang twins were the local bullies, and in a community of creatures ranging from foul mouthed rats to foxes who would skin you as soon as look at you, that was saying something. They were two of the biggest young weasels around, almost the size of a fully grown weasel twice their age. Mean and always ready to pummel anyone into a bloody pulp, they were the last creatures that Bandit wanted after him. Sighing, he hung his head. "Fine. I'll come."

"Good. Be ready to leave after supper. Father always leaves after supper. Be late, and I'll make sure you regret it." With that, Angel slunk back towards the house.

Watching his sister disappear into the place that he so tentatively called home, he had the worst feeling in his stomach that tonight was going to be one that he wouldn't soon forget.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining or included in the Redwall series of books. I do own Bandit and his family, as well as other original characters.

Author's Notes: Thank you, as always, to all of you who reviewed. A special thanks to Snowygrin for her continued support.

The sun sank beyond the horizon, painting the trees in hues of orange, gold, and red. On any other night it would have seemed beautiful. But not tonight. Tonight it made the pit of Bandit's stomach sink to his toes. It wouldn't be but a few minutes before they ate supper. And after supper… He dared not even think about it too hard, lest he start to feel queasy.

From his position on his small cot bed, in the far corner of a cluttered storage room at the back of the cottage, he could hear the scrape and clatter of the tableware being set on the table.

Sighing with resignation, he stood, ready to go to supper. He normally wouldn't bother attending the actual meal, save if they had company. His parents, no matter how much they failed to acknowledge him, liked the outward appearance of their family to be whole and complete. If it was brought to their attention by the guest that he wasn't present, they would make sure to send Fleck to find him and drag him to the table. And woe betide him if he struggled, or made any appearance of trouble in front of the guests. He already got a good thump from Fleck every time anyway. And even though his presence wasn't required, or would even be noticed by his parents this time, he knew that if he didn't show up, he would pay for it later on. Angel would want to keep her eye on him to make sure he behaved.

Slowly, he dragged his feet through his so-called 'home', until he entered their small kitchen. Sparse in its comforts, it was a room where his mother spent a lot of her time. Either she was trying out some new recipe, or she was sitting at the small kitchen table drying herbs from their tiny garden. Being purely of a clinical mind, however, she had no personal touches scattered about the place, as the mother in Bandit's imagination always did. His imaginary mother would have a vase of flowers on the sill, a bowl full of tasty treats she had baked for her children to nibble on, and a smell of warm dough and seedcakes would waft around her. Instead the kitchen smelt of dry spices and the lingering scent of roasted meats.

Already seated at the table were Fleck and Angel, both looking as though butter wouldn't melt in their mouths. The perfect picture of well-behaved older siblings. 'Yeah right' Bandit inwardly snorted to himself. His mother, tall and dark-furred, was placing a steaming tureen of stew in the centre of the table. His father sat at the head of the table, as always, rubbing his paws in anticipation of the meal to come. Bandit moved silently to the tiny shelf in the corner of the room that held his plate and utensils. Hopping onto his stool, he waited patiently as his mother served the stew to the rest of the family. All the while he watched Angel closely. Outwardly she appeared as innocent and polite as ever, but he could tell that she was still planning for their outing after the meal. His attention snapped back to the meal as some stew was sloppily ladled into his bowl. He blinked up at his mother who had already turned away from him placing the empty tureen on the counter. She must have made too much stew. Ordinarily he would have to wait till the others had started eating before he could scrounge the kitchen for scraps of the meal. The only time she served him anything was when they had company. He shrugged mentally. It must have been automatic, considering he was sitting at the table with them.

Picking up his spoon, he began to eat, flicking looks at his sister throughout the meal. He remained silent, not willing to draw any more attention to himself than he had already received, whilst the family chatted around him. Fleck told his father of the wrestling contests he had won that morning, besting their nearest neighbours son Barrow, despite the weasel being a whole season older than he was. Angel spoke softly with their mother, commenting on the food and asking how her day had been. Far too soon for Bandit's liking, the meal came to a close.

Tarclaw placed his paws flat on the table, as he always did before he left after eating. "A fine meal Selky, my dear. I'll be gone for most of the evening. I have business to see to. All of you have a good night."

Fleck and their mother uttered brief goodbyes and good lucks. Bandit, of course, said nothing, as the pleasantries had not been meant for him anyway. Angel nodded to Tarclaw, as he stood from the table. At this point she grabbed Bandit by the wrist and dragged him out of the kitchen and down the hall to her own room. Pushing him inside, she shut the door and began rummaging under her bed. "What are you doing?" Bandit questioned her. "I thought we were following him?"

"We are. But I'd have to be as idiotic as you to try and follow without trying to make myself less visible." She pulled out two bundles of cloth. "Here. Put it on and stop asking stupid questions."

Bandit held up the cloth, and it unfurled to reveal an inky black cloak. Suddenly comprehending just exactly how long Angel had been planning this escapade, and how much effort she had put into making it go as she wanted it to, he slid the cloak over his shoulders and fastened the clasp. Pulling up the hood, he waited as his sister looked out of the window, before asking tentatively. "Is he leaving yet?"

"No, not yet… wait… Now! Come on, let's go."

Angel slid up her own Hood, as she opened her window and jumped out, followed by Bandit. Peering around in the dark, he whispered. "Won't they notice if you're gone?"

"Don't you think I thought of that?" She hissed back at him, as she pushed aside a low hanging branch. "Fleck never does anything after a supper like that. He crashes out and will sleep till morning. And mother will be concentrating on her herb drying racks for a good while. I sometimes go for night walks, so even if she does look in on my room, she will think I have merely gone to get some air. Now shut up and come along."

Chastised, Bandit followed her through the night, as they trailed their father who seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the wood, with no destination in mind. Bandit knew where he was supposed to be going, but this was in the opposite direction. What was his father doing?

Finally, after hours had seemingly gone by, Tarclaw took a quick glance around him, scanning the trees. Angel pushed Bandit behind a tree before they could be spotted. Satisfied that he was unseen by any creature he knew of, he slipped into the bushes and started to backtrack the way he had come, heading towards the direction of the large rock.

"Finally." Angel muttered. "I thought he'd never stop trying to play it safe."

Bandit knew better than to speak. Silently they continued their pursuit, even more cautious now that Tarclaw was being so silent himself.

Soon enough they reached the white rock that lay near the oak tree that was their intended goal. It remained just as Bandit remembered it. The rock, a boulder roughly shoulder height to Tarclaw, was

a large marker stone. Many etchings had been scratched into its surface over the seasons. In some places childish hands had scrawled mottos or names, in other places declarations of devotion or love to another creature. Bandit knew the exact spot where he himself had marked the stone with his name. Small and crude though it was, he was proud to have put it there. Using his free hours, he scratched it into the rock using a piece of rough edged flint he had found laying near an abandoned campfire pit. It had taken dedication and patience, but he had achieved it. In fact it was the very day that he finished his work when he met his first friends in the squirrel twins.

The memory of finding his friends, only to lose them within a matter of a few hours was incredibly painful. Even though he had resigned himself to the fact that nobody seemed to like ferrets very much, and him in particular, he still hoped for the day when he would find someone to make him feel like he was wanted, not just put up with. Shaking his head to dispel his thoughts, he focused back onto his father, who was currently standing next to the white rock, looking to the East, towards the great oak.

Barely another second had gone by, when Tarclaw darted to the trees and slinked his way towards his goal, keeping low to the ground. At that point both he and Angel found it a lot harder to follow him. They had to make sure to keep him in sight, which was difficult enough, but keep silent at the same time. Bandit felt a tinge of pride, however, in noting that he found it a lot easier going than his sister did. Even though the distance was relatively short, due to the weaving and slinking they had to do, it took them a few minutes to reach the small hut by the side of the enormous oak tree known to everyone in this part of the wood as the great oak. Standing under the outspread branches of the magnificent tree was a small hut.

The place was small, barely over half the size of their own home. It was made of wooden slats nailed together to form the walls, with crude wooden shutters covering the windows. Whoever lived inside, they were obviously quite poor. Tarclaw took one last look around before edging towards the hut. From a small pouch slung over his shoulder he plucked a small metal device, which he promptly began to use on the door of the hut, sliding it between the frame and the body of the Obstructive barrier , wiggling it around until he seemed satisfied with its placement. Then, with a sharp smack to the end of the tool sticking out, he flipped the latch that was keeping the door closed from the inside. Silently he placed the metallic implement back into the pouch and gently eased the door open so that it made no sound. Slipping through the gap, he disappeared inside.

Angel grabbed hold of Bandit's arm in a vice-like grip. "Come on, let's get closer."

"Why do we need to? We can't go in after him."

"No, dufus, but we can listen in through the shutters. You take the right side, I'll take the left. If you hear him, stay with him and I'll come find you, if I hear him I'll do the same and you find me."

Reluctantly, Bandit slinked to the hut and slid along the side of the house to the nearest window shutter, which was a few steps from the front. Pulling down his hood, he placed his ear to the Wood, he listened intently. There was nothing. No shuffling of paws, no halting of breathing. Moving further along the wall, Bandit tried the second shutter. This time he had better luck.

Inside the room he heard the clinking of metal on metal. There was a click and the sound of someone picking up something that creaked as if made of leather. The sound of more clinking signified that whoever it was that was inside, was now counting coins of some sort. Then he heard a chuckle that was distinctly his father's throaty rumble followed by a whisper. "Perfect."

"What is perfect?" Bandit nearly banged his head on the wall, as he jumped from the sound of that loud unexpected voice. "And who are you, vermin?" That voice sounded strangely familiar to Bandit, as if he had heard it before, but he couldn't quite place where.

His father was quick to reply with a snarky tone in his voice. "You know very well who I am, Firley, and why I'm here."

"Let's see… sneaking into my home in the middle of the night, stealing my hard earned money, arrogant personality and a superior expression on your face… You must have come from that foul, thieving stoat."

Tarclaw made a sound like a snarl. "You dare to talk about 'The Boss' like that? You must be even more stupid than I was told. You hold out on 'The Boss', bad-mouth him in public and now you insult him to me…? I'd say those are the actions of a creature who wants a slow and painful death."

"And I suppose you're here to deliver that?"

"No. I came to collect what is owed, but if it came to it, I'm sure 'The Boss wouldn't object." A jangling of the coin bag. "And this is the monetary portion accounted for, but it doesn't quite meet expectations. So, now I'll collect the other part of the debt, and be on my way."

The other's voice was disbelieving. "Other part of the debt? Well, I'm sorry to tell you this, your high and mightiness, but there is nothing else. You have my entire earnings. So I guess you'll just have to go shorthanded, and tell your precious 'Boss' that he can stuff his debt. I'll pay no more after tonight."

"That's where you're wrong. You have something else that could be useful which would settle this months quota."

"I told you, this is the last time I'll stand by and take this – and what else is there to take? What else could that hooligan possibly want from me?"

At that moment the conversation was blocked out by the slight rustling of the undergrowth next to him. Though quiet, it was enough to block out what his father said next. Annoyed, Bandit dared to glare at his sister, who emerged next to him. She glared back and whispered harshly. "Is he in there?"

Bandit nodded, pressing his ear back to the wood to listen. "Yeah, he's taking money and something else from someone called Firley. They were talking a moment ago." Angel copied his position, and they listened in on the conversation again.

Firley's voice came through clearly, a hiss of indignation and anger colouring his voice. "You honestly think I would let you take him…?"

"Whether you allow me to or not, he is coming with me. 'The Boss' will make good use of him. I can assure you that he'll receive only the best of care if you co-operate, but if you don't… well… there's always need for something to use for target practice."

"How dare you…!" Firley snarled, followed by a clatter as if something had been knocked to the ground. "I'll kill you before I let you touch either one of them!"

"Now now, Firley. No need to get violent. You never were much of a fighter." There was a choking sound as Tarclaw chuckled. "You see, not even able to get in a single blow. Now where is the oldest one?"

"Won't… tell… you…" Firley choked out, spite and rage still colouring his strangled words.

Tarclaw grunted. "Never mind. I can make a pretty good guess."

A loud thump sounded, making the ramshackle boards of the wall shake. Then the footfalls of their father could be heard heading towards the room to the right of the one they were currently listening at. The gasping breaths of the unknown creature by the name of Firley were easily heard as he pounded after Tarclaw. Angel grabbed Bandit by the arm and hissed. "Come on!"

For once not needing to be persuaded, Bandit dashed alongside her to the next room, where they pressed their ears so hard into the boards that it almost hurt. There was a rustling of cloth and then a small squeak that sounded as if muffled by a piece of material. "Hush little kit. Wouldn't want to wake the rest of the family, would you?" Tarclaw's voice was more sneer than comfort. "Just breathe in deep now…"

"Let… him go…" The rasp of Firley's voice was painful to listen to., but they could hear him moving towards where their father must be standing. "I said… let him go!"

There was a scuffle and a loud bump, followed by the cry of a young child. "Daddy!"

Again Bandit felt the rush of familiarity that the voice of Firley had invoked. He shot a look at Angel, who was concentrating with her eyes tight closed, to see if she had experienced the same feeling. Apparently she had not, considering her expression hadn't changed, and her ear was still firmly pressed to the rough grained wood. At that moment there was an almighty bang, as the pair of struggling adults must have impacted the wall. The boards shuddered, and both he and Angel sprang away rubbing their ears to relieve the painful ringing that the sound had caused. "Get out of the house!" Firley was yelling. " Rosehip! Get out of the house, take the children and run!"

Bandit found himself pushed harshly back into the surrounding brush, as a loud commotion overtook the small hut. Banging of doors and the thumps of fighting bodies, along with the cries of the frightened family rang through the air. An extra loud bang issued from the front of the hut, as three figures stumbled hurriedly out of the house. The first was obviously the mother of the family, her bushy tail bristling with her fear as she gathered the two children in front of her, pushing them away from the house.

One of the kits was fighting to get free, to go back to the house. "No, mommy, we've got to help daddy!"

"No Pipkin, we need to run!" The anxious mother grabbed at her squirming son and dragged them both into the woods.

Angel watched their progress into the trees, until another almighty bang drew her attention to the front door once more. Out of it fell the two figures of Firley and Tarclaw, locked in paw-to-paw combat. Tarclaw seemed to have the upper hand, using his greater height and reach to subdue the shorter squirrel. Fearing that this commotion would draw more attention to the area, and thus make it harder for her to escape unseen, she turned to Bandit. "Come on, let's get out of here. Get back to the house and… hey! Are you listening to me?"

But he clearly had heard nothing since the words of the mother squirrel had rung through his ears, echoing over and over. "No Pipkin, we need to run…! No Pipkin… Pipkin… Pipkin…" His eyes were riveted on his father, who had stumbled out of the hut fighting a creature who Bandit clearly recognised, even though they had only met face to face once in his short lifetime. He was the father of his only friends, the very same friends that had been driven into the woods by their mother only seconds before. He ignored Angel's pokes, despite their bruising force. He didn't even react when Firley gave a strangled sound and fell to the dirt, unmoving.

Tarclaw brushed his paws over his dusty clothes and sneered at the still figure at his feet. "Well, seems like 'The Boss' won't have any more trouble from you. I'll soon catch that family of yours and put them to good use. Too bad you'll not be around to see it." Kicking a cloud of dust over the still form, Tarclaw slunk away into the gloom.

Firley didn't stir. Angel grew Impatient with her brother and gave him a sharp shove. "Fine. Stay here and get caught. But tell anyone I was here and you'll wish that was you." She pointed to the deathly still squirrel. With that she turned tail and scampered back through the trees.

Numbly, Bandit approached Firley, his breath held. Gently he touched the shoulder of the fallen form. Half hoping and half dreading that his touch would elicit him to jump to his feet and shout threats. But there was nothing. No movement, not even a breath. Firley was clearly no more. He had left this world for that of the dark forest.

Bandit stood, frozen in his horror. His father was a killer. He had killed this creature and didn't even seem ashamed or sorrowful at the fact. This saddened Bandit, despite the fact that this squirrel had shown him no shred of friendly feeling. He felt a hollow open up in his heart at the realisation that someone who had created him could take away another's life without batting an eyelid.

He was still held in his shocked state when the undergrowth began to rustle, and out from them stepped a familiar bushy tailed figure. Pipkin, obviously having managed to escape his mother's shepherding, had backtracked back to his home and his father. He eyed his fallen parent with horror and disbelief, before his gaze turned to Bandit. "You…"

The sheer hatred contained in that one word brought Bandit to turn to Pipkin, recognising the look of anger and betrayal in the other creature's eyes. "Pipkin I… I don't…"

"Don't." The command was short and sharp. "I hate you. Father was right. All your kind do is hurt others. I hate you!" Pipkin launched himself at Bandit, who could only raise his arms and try to protect himself from the pounding fists of the little squirrel. "I hate you! I thought you were my friend! I thought that you deserved a chance, that you weren't bad. But I was wrong. You were here. You were here and you didn't help! You didn't… didn't…" Pipkin broke down into sobs, falling to his knees by the side of his father and buried his tiny tear-streaked face into Firley's bushy tail. "Daddy…"

Bandit swallowed reflexively, as a painful lump of pressure formed in his throat. He wanted to kneel before Pipkin, grasp hold of his former friend and beg for forgiveness. To cry out his grief, his anger, his hate for what his father had done, for what he had not tried to prevent.

Maybe it was true. Maybe all of his kind were worthy of their reputation as cut-throats and scoundrels. But he wasn't like that. Despite the fact that he felt like the lowest of the low at the moment, he wasn't a killer. Nor did he ever want to be one. Did that mean that there was something wrong with him?

Looking down at Pipkin, who was still sobbing his heart out, Bandit made a decision. If there had to be something wrong with him for him not to want to kill, then he was happy to be that way. If others wouldn't accept him for being what he was, then he would agree to let them have that opinion. But that didn't mean he had to like it, or stick around to watch it happen. Bowing his head he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. "I'm sorry Pipkin. I really am. I hope that you can forgive me one day for all that I failed to do."

With that, Bandit turned, pulling the hood of his cloak up over his head once more. With a glance back at the two on the ground, he strode into the woods. Out of the clearing, out of plain sight of any who would come to investigate, and out of his old life. What he was going to do now, or where he should go, Bandit had no clue. One thing was for sure, he wasn't going to let anyone fool him ever again. He would live by his own rules from now on.


End file.
